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Dull. Nor understood none neither, sir.
Hol. Allons ! we will employ thee.

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hol. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, away.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Another part of the same. Before the Princess's

pavilion. Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and

MARIA.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we de

part,
If fairings come thus plentifully in :
A lady wall’d about with diamonds !-
Look you, what I have from the loving king.

Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin. Nothing but this ? yes, as much love in

rhyme, As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper, Writ on both sides, the leaf, margent, and all ; That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name. Ros. That was the way to make his godhead

wax; For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

1

I Grow.

Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too, Ros. You 'll ne'er be friends with him; he kill'd

your sister.

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy; And so she died : had she been light, like you, Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit, She might have been a grandam ere she died : And so may you; for a light heart lives long. Ros. What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this

light word? Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark. Ros. We need more light to find your meaning

out. Kath. You 'll mar the light, by taking it in

snuff; Therefore I 'll darkly end the argument. Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i' the

dark. Kath. So do not you ; for you are a light wench. Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore

light. Kath. You weigh me not !_0, that's you care

not for me. Ros. Great reason; for, Past cure is still past

2

care.

Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well

play'd.

| This word was formerly a term of endearment.

2 In anger.

But, Rosaline, you have a favor too :
Who sent it? and what is it?
Ros.

I would, you knew.
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favor were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron :
The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Prin. Any thing like ?
Ros. Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
Ros. ’Ware pencils ! How ? let me not die your

debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter.
O, that your face were not so full of Os ! 1
Kath. A pox of that jest ! and I beshrew all

shrows ! Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you

from fair Dumain ? Kath. Madam, this glove. Prin.

Did he not send you twain ? Kath. Yes, madam ; and moreover, Some thousand verses of a faithful lover: A huge translation of hypocrisy: Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

1 Marks of the small pox.

Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent Longa

ville : The letter is too long by half a mile. Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in

heart, The chain were longer, and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part. Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.

Ros. They are worse fools, to purchase mocking so. That same Biron I 'll torture ere I go. O, that I knew he were but in by the week !1 How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek ; And wait the season, and observe the times, And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes ; And shape his service wholly to my behests ; 2 And make him proud to make me proud that jests ! 3 So portent-like would I o'ersway his state, That he should be my fool, and I his fate. Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are

catch'd, As wit turn'd fool : folly, in wisdom hatch'd, Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school ; And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool. Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such ex

cess, As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

1 'I wish I was as sure of his service for any time limited as if I had hired him.'-Steevens. ? Commands.

3 I would make him proud to flatter me, who make a mock of his flattery.

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Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note,
As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote ;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

Enter BOYET.

wits;

Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his

face. Boy. O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where's

her grace ? Prin. Thy news, Boyet? Boy.

Prepare, madam, prepare ! Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are Against your peace. Love doth approach disguised, Armed in arguments : you 'll be surprised : Muster your stand in your own defence ; Or hide

your heads like cowards, and fly hence. Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid ! What are

they, That charge their breath against us ? say, scout, say.

Boy. Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold address'd
The king and his companions : warily
I stole into a neighbor thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear;
That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage :

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